Of Trust and Fate
by xiaogui
Summary: [SPOILER for HP7] From the 'Flight of the Prince' to 'The Prince's Tale': now we know it all. Or do we? The final book from Severus Snape's point of view. Somewhat hurtcomfortish beginning, now general drama with slight angst. WiP.
1. Spinner's End

** A/N:** To those of my kind readers who might wonder: the first two chapters of this fic are modified (i.e. "book 7-fitted") versions of the ones that already have been posted 2005 for my fic "Killer in me". For various reasons I decided to reduce "Killer in me" back to its original one-shot version and start a new fic instead. This fic obviously contains **SPOILERS for book 7**, so if you haven't read the book yet and don't wish to be spoilt, please stop reading **NOW**.

**Summary:** From the "Flight of the Prince" to "The Prince's Tale": now we know it all. Or do we? The final book from Severus Snape's point of view. And since Mrs Rowling gave us only a handful of hints and side notes about Snape's final year, this fic is basically an assortment of loads of "gap-fillers". The beginning is somewhat hurt/comfort-ish, but later chapters will be general drama with slight angst.

**Rating:** T for Troll

**Warnings:** some blood and violence (about the same amount as in the book, so it will not be too graphic) and possible awkward language, since English is not my first language. My apologies! ;-)

**Disclaimer:** see my profile page

**Enjoy! **And I would, of course, be delighted if you grant me a tiny review.** :-)**

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** Of Trust and Fate**

**Chapter 1: Spinner's End**

"What are you waiting for, boy?" he snarled, breathing heavily. "Open that door!"

Like stung from a wasp Draco made a startled jump at the sudden outburst. Apart from panting and occasional low cursing Snape hadn't uttered another sound on their way from the Apparition spot to the end of the street in that run-down industrial area. For a couple of moments Snape almost hysterically tried to clutch his trembling wand steadily to lift the protecting charm from the lock of the door. Finally the wand dropped to the ground from his injured hands, which had been slashed open by the hippogriff's sharp claws. Biting his lower lip he leaned against the wall beside the entrance, blood seeping from a deep gash on his forehead into his eyes. He blinked and wiped away the mixture of blood and sweat with the sleeve of his robes, knowing that he couldn't even think of summoning the strength to turn the doorknob.

Draco awoke from the trance he had seemingly been in after realising their current location.

"Is _this_ where you live?" he asked incredulously while opening the wooden door. Obviously his mother had never told him about Snape's whereabouts when he wasn't at Hogwarts. Maybe she wanted to keep up a kind of façade for her son's sake on this close friend of the family.

Snape didn't answer. Instead he curtly tilted his head, indicating the boy to enter. "Get in," he hissed.

After both had entered the house and Draco had closed the door, Snape limped over to one of the shabby armchairs at the fireplace and gingerly sat down, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. Draco, however, remained standing in the middle of the small room, a shadow of disbelief over his face.

"If this is really your…" he said reluctantly, "…your _home_, wouldn't this be exactly the place they would search for us first?"

Snape examined the wounds on his hands and then looked up. "No," he answered. "Apart from some of the Dark Lord's followers no one knows of this place – except…" He pressed his lips together as his stomach clenched uncomfortably. "Never mind about that now, it's none of your business." He felt sick.

"Thank you, Professor," Draco said, suddenly looking uneasy. "Thank you for saving my life."

"There is no more 'Professor', Draco. And it is not like I had a lot more options to choose from, is it?" the man answered wearily, again looking down to his hands. "Wretched creature!"

"Is there anything I can do to help? Is there any potion…" The young man examined the dust-covered bookshelves.

"No. This is no potions storeroom, as you might already have noticed," Snape answered. "There is a disinfecting liquid in the bathroom cupboard, though," he added, turning his head to a door to the left and Draco obeyed his unspoken request without further delay.

While he heard the boy rummaging in the adjacent room, Snape leaned back in the armchair and closed his eyes. He felt nausea rise again. He had murdered – again. Killed Dumbledore, killed his future. Anger rose within him. _How could he!_ How could Dumbledore demand such a thing from him, knowing that this action not only would kill him but also Snape's only chance to prove his honest efforts for the Order! _Any my soul, Dumbledore, mine?_ His question still rang in his ears, now more accusingly than ever. And what was more, it now seemed all in vain. Potter, Lily's son, the boy to whose protection he had devoted his whole life would have to die in the end. And now Dumbledore was gone and with him the only one to testify. There was no one left to know the truth now, except for him, the apparent murderer of his mentor. _Blast!_

"Prof… sir?"

Snape's eyes snapped open. Draco stood in front of him, a bottle in his one hand while conjuring some bandages out of midair with a flick of his wand. He drew a stool closer and sat down by the man's side.

"Put your hands out, please," said the boy quietly while he soaked a piece of gauze. His hands trembled so heavily that the bottle slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor.

"S…sorry," he mumbled as he bent down to pick it up.

"Calm down, Draco," said Snape. He tried to sound reassuring, despite his own apprehension. It was hardly surprising that the boy was under shock but he could not allow him to panic.

Draco gulped and nodded, his chin still quivering slightly. "I'm not sure, but I guess this is going to burn a bit," he said tentatively.

"Just go ahead," Snape snapped and Draco started to carefully dab the wounds with the damp cloth.

_And what now? Where should he go? _There had never been an opt-out scenario on this, Snape thought, ignoring the pain. Dumbledore had coaxed him into that fatal plan without caring about the aftermath. Back to the Dark Lord? To join the _celebrations_? He wanted to throw up.

"You look sick," he heard Draco's concerned voice as the young man turned to clean the gashes on his former professor's face. "Don't flinch!" he added, as Snape involuntarily let out a hiss of pain when the liquid made contact with the open wound.

"And now?" Draco asked after he had finished covering the injuries with bandages. He stood up again. "What are we going to do now?" he repeated.

_Honestly, I don't know._ "I assume your mother will know what happened by now," Snape answered. "We will wait for her here to pick you up for your audience with the Lord."

"And you?"

"Me? I'm going to have a drink now."

Supporting himself on his elbows he rose and went over to the mantelpiece to fetch a bottle and a glass. A bandaged and trembling hand awkwardly tilted the bottle to pour the golden-brown liquid.

"To the future," Snape said, raising his glass and then draining it. _To the future_…

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**Betas: lucidity** for the original one-shot and **sympathex** for the edited version. Thank you very much! 

Should you prefer to read this story at livejournal, please have a look at my fanfiction-journal under the username of "**salzgurke**".


	2. Déjà Vu

**A/N (aka "some remarks and apologies"):** As English is not my first language there might be awkward words or sentences in this fic. Please don't be too nitpicking :-). And please, do tell me if you find any really terrible mistakes, I would be very grateful! Furthermore, I'd like to apologise for the short chapters. I assume that they are going to get longer, though, once I get into the "writing process" again.

And thanks a lot for your kind reviews, they are very encouraging!

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**Chapter 2: Déjà Vu**

Snape nearly missed the soft knock on the door, which hardly penetrated the Firewhisky-induced mist around his head. For the last hour he had sat at the fireplace, brooding over what had happened and trying to ignore the pain that seemed to grow constantly as the realisation of his actions and their consequences sank in, bit by bit.

As he slowly looked up he saw Draco sitting straight, his body frozen and his gaze frantically switching from him to the door and back. Snape narrowed his eyes...

Another knock and a quiet whisper: "_Severus_...?"

He nodded towards the bathroom door. "Get in," he breathed barely audibly, and the young man obeyed.

He then gingerly got to his feet, ignoring the hint of vertigo and the protests from every single nerve in his body, and cautiously went over to the entrance. Drawing his wand from his robes, he slowly opened the door and peered out through a slight crack. A hood was thrown back, revealing the pale face of Narcissa Malfoy. Snape had a passing unpleasant impression of a déjà vu, and his lips pressed together into a firm, thin line. He opened the door a bit further, and the light fell onto a second hooded figure. _Now I have definitely upstaged you, Bella_, Snape thought, duly stopping the self-satisfied smirk, which started to play around his lips.

"Come in," he said, without wasting time for unnecessary platitudes. Stepping back from the entrance he pushed the door open and the two women swept over the threshold. Draco peered out from the bathroom door.

"Mother," he breathed, recognising the visitors.

Narcissa hurried over and flung her arms around him, embracing him tightly.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, sobbing. "You're alive!"

"Yes, mother, I am," the young man answered, his voice shaking.

His mother let go and looked at Snape, whose facial expression was an unreadable mask.

"The others told me what happened," she said, dabbing her tears away with the hem of her cloak. "Thank you so much for saving my son, Severus."

"It was …my duty, Narcissa," he said.

"Now now, Snape, so modest?" Bellatrix said with a smirk. "You killed Albus Dumbledore, after all. You should be at the Dark Lord's side, celebrating and revelling in the glory." She raised her head, sniffing, and then grimaced. "And not be here in this hidey-hole, solitarily clouding your consciousness with alcohol."

"As you might have not noticed yet, Bellatrix, I am not exactly in a condition to _celebrate_ at present time," Snape answered snidely. "I preferred a couple of hours rest over a forthwith enquiry by the Dark Lord, after what has happened."

It seemed that only now Narcissa noticed the amateurishly applied bandages on his hands and forehead. "You're wounded, Severus!" she exclaimed. "What happened?"

"It was Hagrid's hippogriff. He attacked us before we could make it to the Apparition spot."

Narcissa looked concerned. "A hippogriff," she said. "How bad is it?"

"Just bad enough that I wasn't able to heal myself," Snape answered wearily and lifted his wrapped up hands. "I have some healing experience, but without being able to hold a wand steadily…"

"I'm not much of a healer myself," said Narcissa apologetically. "Don't you have any potions here that could help?"

Snape slowly shook his head. "This place has hardly been inhabited in recent years. There is not much here except for the furniture and the absolute necessities. It is most regrettable that potions are not conjure-able. And apart from that – wounds from hippogriff claws are not the easiest to heal," he added, sighing.

Narcissa then lifted her head as if she needed to summon her courage. "Severus, come with us to meet the Dark Lord. I've heard that Selwyn will be there as well, and he has some healing experience."

"I don't think that would be a wise idea at the moment. I'd rather…"

"Maybe Snape wants to stay behind for another drink?" Bellatrix suddenly interrupted tauntingly, looking mistrustfully at the seemingly reluctant man. "Do you _fear_ an audience with the Dark Lord? Why didn't you meet us right away, why hide here? Why, Snape?"

"I daresay that I have answered these questions before, Bellatrix," Snape answered, betraying a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Leave him, Bella!" said Narcissa. "He killed Dumbledore, and he saved my son. You have no right to question him like this."

"He did it because he was bound to the Vow, Cissa!" her sister insisted, open dislike now dripping from every syllable. "I assume that his first priority was to save his own skin – as always."

"You were never good at masking your true feelings, Bellatrix," Snape said sneeringly. "Are you jealous, dear Bella? Jealous that my actions will undoubtedly put me further in favour of the Lord? Maybe it's time for _you_ to reconsider where your true loyalties lie, Bellatrix – with the Dark Lord and our cause or with …yourself."

He smugly noticed Bellatrix' fury rise, when Narcissa stepped between them.

"Stop this now!" she said. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Bella. Severus risked his life for the cause and gained a great victory, and still you don't trust him."

Bellatrix glared at Snape, while Narcissa gave him another worried look. "Come with us, Severus," she insisted, "Let Selwyn see after your wounds; you cannot stay here all alone in your present condition."

After a moment of consideration Snape secretly complied. He had to face the Dark Lord eventually, and there was no point in attempting to heal himself before anyway. Yet, he couldn't deceive himself – the feeling of realisation gnawed on his insides, and it grew stronger and stronger. The Dark Lord would question him hard, undoubtedly, despite the obviously successful outcome of the matter. Snape was certain that their scheme with the Unbreakable Vow was no longer unknown to him. Fortunately, his little verbal duel with Bellatrix seemed to have sobered him up a bit, even though he knew that his mental state was not nearly as it should be for a meeting with the Dark Lord. He hoped that the cool air outside would clear his head.

He looked back at Narcissa and then nodded slowly. "Very well then. Let's go."

Every cell in his body ached as he opened the door, showing Draco and the two sisters out to the street. Like black shapes moving in the shadows they made their way along the dirty brick walls until they reached a spot that was suitable for Apparition.

The dimly lit face of Bellatrix mirrored a strange mixture of delight and distrust as she looked at Snape. The corner of his mouth twitched in a slight sneer. The Dark Mark had been burning ever since their flight from Hogwarts; he knew where to go.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Bellatrix merely nodded, and Narcissa placed her arm around her son's shoulders.

"Perhaps it would be prudent if Draco would rather go with me," Snape said softly.

The young man first looked at him and then at his mother, who gave her approval with a brief nod. Draco then went over and joined his former Head of House, who offered him his arm.

And with a soft _Plop_ the dark towering chimney of the old mill faded away.

°

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**Betas: lucidity** for the original one-shot and **sympathex** for the edited version. Thank you very much! 


	3. The Old Barn

**Some clarifications (thanks, Alcina, for asking!):** firstly, the fact that "Hippogriff wounds were difficult to heal" is my invention, although it might even have a bit of canon foundation, too, when we remember Draco's "acting" on this matter from book 3. Secondly, I assumed that a possible "Apparition spot" at Spinner's End is in a short walking distance from the Snapes' home and not directly nearby. I took this from the fact that Bella and Narcissa apparated "somewhere down the road" before they came to Snape's home. Maybe the area is protected somehow (it's a Muggle living area, after all), but I didn't really think much about it. Please forgive me if my assumption is not correct.

**Beta:** the lovely **sympathex**, who is an incredible help with her valuable comments, critique and suggestions. Thank you very much!

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**Chapter 3: The Old Barn**

Even if the procedure of Apparition took the mere wink of an eye, Snape felt relieved when the typical sensation of being pressed through a tube subsided. The wounds on his hands and forehead pounded uncomfortably and he felt dizzy, a feeling which certainly was not going to be eased by young Draco clinging on to his arm.

A soft _Plop_ announced the arrival of the two Black sisters while he surveyed the surroundings, trying to determine where the call of the Dark Mark had taken them. The dark outline of an old barn was visible a short distance away, but Snape could feel the lingering tinge of Dark Magic with the use of which it obviously had been altered. He suspected that only witches and wizards who bore the Mark and their associates were able to perceive the adjustments on the wooden ruin.

"Draco!" Narcissa called softly. The young man finally let go of Snape's arm and stepped back. He looked around in uncertainty as his mother approached.

"It's here," said Bellatrix, unnecessarily, as if she wanted them to take notice of her presence as well.

The snide remark that wanted to roll over Snape's tongue stayed stuck in his throat as vertigo overcame him at last. His gaze became unfocussed and he began to sway.

"Severus!" Narcissa exclaimed, quickly clutching his arm to support him as his knees gave way.

Supporting himself on her, Snape took a few deep breaths and shook his head while the blurry spots in his vision slowly vanished. He already regretted the decision to come here, not only because he was in such a bad shape and feared he would not be able to withstand the Dark Lord's piercing Legilimency-skills, but also because he had the distinct feeling that very soon, he was to step over a threshold past which there was no return. Though he tried to fight it, the dreaded pictures of the scenes on top of the tower reappeared before his eyes: Dumbledore pleading, and him finally casting the deadly curse. For the first time in his life the path laid out before him was clear…and utterly unpleasant. The realisation hit him like a club: he had closed the door; he could never go back. He did not need to see a Grim to sense how it would end, now that his only option was to return to the Dark Lord's circle, once and for all.

Still, wallowing in despair and self-pity was not something he could afford, now of all moments. He looked up and met Narcissa's worried gaze. "Let's go," he said with a curt nod while he tried to calm himself and bury the disturbing and dangerous thoughts in the deepest depths of his mind.

Together they moved closer to the barn, and a door became visible. A thread of light shone through a crack and Snape could hear voices from inside. He took a deep, steadying breath and slowly pushed the door open. The interior of the "barn", which was much bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, had obviously been altered to fit the occasion: chandeliers illuminated a large room, the walls of which were covered with dark drapery. Tables had been prepared and now, given the already late hour, bore the remains of an apparently glittering feast. A mixture of cold smoke and alcohol hung in the air like mist, and apart from a handful of persistent drinkers most of the celebrants had already left to, as Snape assumed, sleep it off. He now remembered the place from a meeting a while ago.

"Severus!" exclaimed Dolohov as he noticed their arrival. "Just the man we all have been waiting for! Where have you been?"

"Antonin," Snape greeted him soberly, ignoring the question while his gaze briefly swept the room. "Where is the Dark Lord?"

"I am here." The voice came from a dark corner to Snape's left. A large chair stood there in the shadows. Nagini moved slightly aside as the Dark Lord rose. "So you have decided to join us at last, Severus," he stated.

Snape inclined his head. "Yes, my Lord."

"Why the delay? We were all wondering, after the Carrows reported the good news."

"I apologise, my Lord. I needed some rest," Snape answered, slightly lifting his injured hands.

"I see…" Whether the Dark Lord was satisfied with the answer Snape could not tell. However, it seemed to suffice for the moment. "How come you are injured?" the Dark Lord asked. "The Carrows did not recall any resistance from the old fool. On the contrary, he seemed to surrender rather quickly after he had been overpowered."

"The wounds were not done by Dumbledore's hands," Snape answered. "We were attacked by a hippogriff when we were fleeing to the Apparition spot."

"My Lord…" The Dark Lords eyes turned to Narcissa who then lowered her gaze to escape his intimidating stare. "If I may speak…" she added sheepishly, tightly holding on to her son who looked equally uncomfortable.

"What is it, Narcissa? I will come to you in a moment."

"Is…is Selwyn here?" she asked. "He could see after Severus' wounds."

"Unfortunately this would have to wait until the morning," the Dark Lord answered. "Selwyn, as always, overestimated his stamina and indulged a bit too much in Alecto's home-made mead. He is asleep and I doubt that he would be of much use in his current state. I am sorry, Severus," he added. "Maybe Jugson or Dolohov can lend you a hand instead."

"So, the only ones still standing, if I assume correctly," Snape stated dryly while he looked over to the other end of the table. Jugson and Dolohov sat there, watching the conversation with interest. Right next to them he could discern Avery, sleeping on his arms and a turned over goblet, and Rookwood, swaying slightly in his seat and staring in the air with an unfocussed look.

The Dark Lord curled a lip. "I am afraid so."

"Then, my Lord," Snape said, "I would like to request to continue the conversation later. I really would like to sit down for a while." He briefly glanced at his hands where fresh blood had again begun to stain the dressings. As he looked up he met the Dark Lord's piercing gaze. For a brief instant it seemed as if he dangerously narrowed his eyes but Snape was prepared. Breathing steadily he parried any possible attempt to invade his mind. At last the Dark Lord nodded.

"Very well," he said. "We will continue tomorrow. Get some rest, Severus, you did well."

"Thank you, my Lord." With a curt nod he turned and went over to join Dolohov and Jugson who welcomed him with broad grins on their faces.

"Well done, Sev!" said Dolohov, patting his shoulder as he sat down. "Amycus and Alecto told us everything. Pretty cold-blooded bastard, you, eh? A shame that I missed the party…"

Jugson chuckled. "Well, you certainly didn't miss _this_ party."

"There haven't been many occasions to celebrate since our escape from Azkaban," grinned Dolohov in return. "Just wait for the party we'll throw when we've freed the others."

Jugson nodded. "A shame that Nott died last month. Would have been the old gang together again, right?"

But Snape did not pay any further attention to them. Instead, he inconspicuously watched the Dark Lord, Narcissa and Draco leave, with Nagini slithering behind them and finally disappearing through a door to the back. Bellatrix lingered on for a moment but then she also left, probably in search for her husband.

A loud _thump_ made Snape startle. Rookwood had knocked his goblet from the table while he struggled to his feet, swaying. Muttering something unintelligible he left, noisily bumping into chairs on his way.

"Here. Have a drink with us!" Jugson pushed a glass towards Snape who grimaced and shook his head.

"No, thanks," he said, raising his hands. "Antonin, could you…"

Dolohov furrowed his brow. "Right… Sorry, Severus. Let me have a look."

He took Snape's hands and examined them. "Hippogriff, huh? I can't heal these but I can stop the bleeding for now." He carefully removed the freshly stained dressings and grimaced at the wounds. "You are lucky that you didn't loose fingers. Hippogriff wounds are no picnic," he said. Muttering a low incantation he pointed his wand first at the hands and then at Snape's forehead.

Snape looked over his still hurting but no longer bleeding hands and then nodded an approval. "Thanks, Antonin."

"No problem. Hopefully Selwyn can help you more than I could…tomorrow," he smirked.

"What happened to Yaxley? Did he make it?" asked Snape.

Jugson shook his head. "He didn't return. We don't know what happened to him. And Gibbon's dead."

Snape's face displayed no emotion. "I know. I saw his body when we fled."

Dolohov stifled a yawn. "Anyway… I'm going to turn in." He gestured at another door in the back. "Are you going to sleep here, Severus, or will you apparate back?"

"I assume that the Dark Lord wishes to hear my report tomorrow," Snape answered, "so I'd better stay here. Furthermore…" He raised his hands. "I seem to depend on Selwyn's skills – should he survive Alecto's mead, that is."

"I can show you to your quarters, if you like," said Dolohov as he stood up.

Snape, too, pushed his chair back. "Thanks, Antonin."

Dolohov showed him to some rooms in the back, and only as Snape stretched out on one of the simple beds he realised how exhausted he was. Outside, day must be dawning, he thought. So, another attempt to free the rest of the Death Eaters from Azkaban was in planning, it seemed. Well, he would learn about the details tomorrow, he guessed. He wondered why the Dark Lord hadn't pressed the issue when he clearly must have realised that Snape had closed his mind before him. He had been a fool to come here tonight in his present condition, he knew that now. The risk of his cover being blown only because he was emotionally unstable had been just too high. Cover for whom, though? Snape gave a low, bitter chuckle. Lily's boy had to die anyway, and Dumbledore was already gone. _The man with the master plan_, Snape thought cynically. A master plan that had led him right into a trap – but not before asking yet another favour from him: to survive, and to protect the Hogwarts students along the way. And then…then his mission would eventually be complete. Or so it seemed. Snape did not want to think of the grim outlook. With a bitter sigh on his lip he finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

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	4. Loose Ends

**Chapter 4: Loose Ends**

"Severus…"

Snape groaned softly, still haunted by the sinister images his dreams had left him with. His head ached and his hands throbbed painfully. Somebody gently shook his shoulder, thus rendering his resistance to waking up futile.

"Severus, wake up…" It was Narcissa's voice.

He moaned again and without thinking lifted a hand to rub his face. The sharp reminder from both, hand and forehead, however, made him flinch and hiss involuntarily. He opened his eyes and looked into Narcissa's anxious face.

"Severus," she whispered again. "He knows. The Dark Lord knows of the Vow. He questioned us about it yesterday." She looked terrified.

Snape sighed and unsuccessfully tried to sit up without using his hands, cursing under his breath. Narcissa slipped a trembling hand behind his shoulders and helped him, a gesture he answered with a mumbled "thanks".

"I assumed as much," he then said. "His most valuable source when it comes to issues like this is dangling right at the hem of his robe."

Narcissa looked confused. "You mean Bella? But she would not…"

"Oh yes, she would," Snape interrupted her, sneering. "In case you haven't noticed, you dear sister would do a lot of things to harm me or my position. Even if it would mean to jeopardise your family matters."

She seemed prepared to argue for the sake of her sister, but Snape cut her short. "Be that as it may, it does not concern our problem at hand. I believe I will be able to handle Bellatrix when it's necessary. And," he continued, while slipping into his boots, "I also believe that I will be able to explain our actions to the Dark Lord."

The anxiety on Narcissa's face appeared to subside slightly. "What are you going to say?" she asked.

Snape slowly stood up and straightened his robe, ignoring her question. "I need to see Selwyn first, however," he said.

Indeed, the fact that the Dark Lord knew about the Vow seemed to present him with an unexpected solution for his problem. It had worked before, he thought, furrowing his brow. _So many years ago_… After he had decided to turn to Dumbledore for help he had fed the Dark Lord with superficial pictures when he probed his mind. Childhood memories had covered up the despair and hatred he had felt in the wake of the Lord's decision not to spare her. It had been a desperate and dangerous act but it had had the desired effect; the Dark Lord had been fooled, content in the believe that Snape merely mourned the loss of a childhood friend. It still hurt to think of her…

"Are you alright, Severus?"

Narcissa's voice made him flinch. Abruptly forced out of his reminiscences, Snape almost instantly recomposed his face into an inscrutable mask.

"You are in pain," Narcissa said sympathetically, gently touching his shoulder. "Let us go see Selwyn."

Together they left the small chamber and entered the large room where they found Selwyn sitting at the end of the table, his head buried in his hands and a cup of black coffee in front of him. Avery sat beside him and started to smile as he saw Snape approaching.

"Wait," said Narcissa, drawing her wand. Snape stopped, looking at her slightly puzzled. She muttered a low _Tergeo_ to remove the dried bloodstains from his robes. He raised an eyebrow but she smiled at him. "Much better," she said, before turning to leave.

"Sev," Avery greeted him. "How are you? Jugson told me that you arrived late yesterday. Unfortunately I, ah, kind of _missed_ it," he added sheepishly.

Snape's lips curled into a thin smile. "I noticed, Ben."

Then he looked at Selwyn's slumped figure and an empty vial in front of him. "I thought I was the one who needed medical assistance here," he stated dryly.

Avery chuckled and Selwyn raised his head. "Ah, Snape," he said, his voice hoarse. "Narcissa already told me. Just give me a couple of minutes until this damn potion starts to work…"

Avery picked up his wand. "Tea, Severus? Still two sugar?"

Snape nodded and sat beside them, while Avery flicked his wand and carefully accio-ed a filled cup. He placed it in front of Snape who thanked him.

"You really finished off Dumbledore…" Avery said, a hint of awe in his voice.

Snape took a sip from his tea. "I did," he answered curtly, not wanting to elaborate on the subject. He looked across the table to Selwyn who massaged his temples – apparently to fight off a persistent headache.

"Selwyn?" he asked. "Do you think you could…?"

Selwyn nodded. "Yes. Let me see." He stood up and walked around the table to sit beside Snape. Furrowing his brow he examined Snape's hands and forehead. "We can't use dittany on these," he mused. "But I can heal them anyway." Snape breathed a quiet sigh of relief as Selwyn drew his wand and pointed it at his hands, softly muttering a lengthy incantation. He traced the wounds with the tip of the wand, and after the fifth or sixth round the gashes slowly closed and fresh skin knit together.

"There…" he said, while Snape carefully flexed this healed fingers. "Which leaves…_this_." He pointed at Snape's forehead. "Now… Don't flinch!" he said impatiently as Snape instinctively drew back from the wand pointed between his eyes.

It took Selwyn several minutes more to take care of the wound across Snape's brow, but eventually he leaned back, apparently satisfied. "There won't even be a scar," he said. Snape gingerly touched his forehead and then nodded approvingly. "Thank you, Selwyn." With a swift move he finished his tea and then stood.

"Thank you for the tea, Ben," he said to Avery and then turned to leave. He was ready to see the Dark Lord now. Moreover, he had the rather distinct feeling that the Dark Lord already awaited him. Concentrating on clearing his mind and ignoring the still tight sensation around his stomach, he crossed the large room and turned to the door at the back through which the Lord had left the night before.

He entered a dark hallway where he heard talking through another door to his right. He could make out Bellatrix' shrill voice and stopped to listen, smirking slightly. She complained about some of the Death Eaters – and about him, of course. Well, that was neither new nor exciting, he thought, drawing back again to continue with his mental preparations. After some more deep breaths he finally turned the doorknob and slowly opened the door.

The Dark Lord stood in front of two armchairs, one of which Bellatrix just rose from. When he heard Snape enter he turned to face him.

"Ah… Severus," he said, while Bellatrix just glared and then swept out of the room, brushing Snape slightly as she passed. He watched her closing the door behind her.

"My Lord," Snape answered, inclining his head. "I am here to provide you with the details of yesterday's events."

"Of course you are, Severus," the Dark Lord smirked. Hidden in the folds of his robe, Snape's hand clenched tighter around his wand.

"I am curious, Severus, tell me… When exactly did you plan on telling me about that little charade of yours?" the Dark Lord said, fixing him with a piercing glance.

For a split second Snape nearly thought of the wrong "charade" as his stomach churned yet again. Pulling himself together just in the nick of time he quickly buried any thoughts of Dumbledore beneath pictures of Draco, which he only too willingly produced for the Dark Lord to see.

"_So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!" jeered the boy, defiantly, but obviously at his limits in the light of the task he was supposed to accomplish._

"_You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things."_

"_You'd better stop telling me to come to your office then!"_

"_Listen to me," Snape heard himself say in his memories with a low voice, "I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco…"_

Snape almost staggered backwards when the Dark Lord released his mind again, a knowing sneer on his lips.

"The Unbreakable Vow…" he said softly.

Snape put on a somewhat sheepish expression. "My Lord… I…"

"I am disappointed, Severus," said the Dark Lord. "I did not consider you prone to …_sentimentalities_."

"My Lord," said Snape, rather visibly composing himself. "You have to understand that Lucius and his family are very close to me. I could not deny Narcissa's request. A request she made out of desperation in fear for her only son, I might add."

The Dark Lord grimaced. "Maternal instincts!" he spat contemptuously.

Snape watched him, his body tense and his hand still firmly gripping his wand. But then the Dark Lord raised his hand and the expression on his gruesome face softened slightly.

"Then again," he said, "the outcome was the same, was it not?"

Snape did not answer the clearly rhetorical question. Even though he was still wary his anxiety somewhat eased up.

"Sit," the Dark Lord said, pointing to one of the chairs in an exaggeratedly gracious gesture. Then he turned to sit, not caring whether Snape followed him or not. Snape slowly lowered himself in the chair opposite the Dark Lord, watching and waiting for him to speak again.

"So… You killed Dumbledore."

Snape gave a curt nod, putting on a seemingly satisfied smirk. "Yes, my Lord. After I realised the situation I stunned Flitwick and hurried up to the tower where I seized my chance."

"And well you did, Severus," the Dark Lord answered. "As I said, the result is what matters in the end. With this obstacle out of my way I am – _we are_ – one significant step closer to power."

"My Lord…" Snape began cautiously, awaiting the Dark Lord's approval for him to speak. "I heard about plans for another raid on Azkaban to free our comrades…"

The Dark Lord's lips curled into a smile. "You heard correctly. Such a raid is in preparation, indeed. We will need all the forces we can muster in order to get to Harry Potter once he turns seventeen."

"So this is going to be soon?"

"Very soon."

"Would you require me to participate in the move?"

The Dark Lord slowly shook his head. "No. You will do what you do best: find out about the protection the Order is about to set up around Potter, once the protective enchantment falls."

"In that case," Snape said, "I would ask you to allow me to return to Spinner's End for preparation. Now that I am clearly not welcome in the Order anymore it might prove considerably more difficult to obtain the necessary information."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Yes. I will order Wormtail to assist you."

"With all due respect, my Lord, I am perfectly capable to carry out your assignment," Snape answered, a hint of protest in his voice. The last thing he needed now was a watchdog clinging on to his robe and monitoring his every move – even if it was only Wormtail.

"I am well aware of that, Severus," the Dark Lord smirked. "Let's just say that I would be more comfortable knowing that you have… ah… help."

"I will, of course, serve you the way you wish, my Lord," Snape answered, his expression unreadable.

"I know you will," said the Dark Lord, standing up. "If there is nothing else, you may go."

"Thank you, my Lord." Snape stood as well and made another small bow. Then he turned and left the room.

After he had closed the door and found himself again in the dark and empty corridor, he leaned against the wall, breathing a soft sigh of relief. He finally allowed his strained mind to relax and almost instantly his heart started to pound heavily. It seemed like waves of adrenaline were washing through him. With a trembling hand he brushed away the little beads of sweat that began to form on his brow. He knew he didn't have much time. Potter's birthday was in little more than a month, and not only did he need to obtain the information from the Order for the Dark Lord, but he also had to produce a solution to get Potter out alive without blowing his cover. _He needed a plan, he needed time to think!_ He had to return to Spinner's End first, he decided. What to do with Wormtail he would think of in due course. He could always confund him if it deemed necessary, he guessed. That little rat was hardly a match for him anyway.

His spirits slightly raised by the seemingly easy solution to at least one of his problems, he composed himself and left the corridor. The large room was empty and so he only crossed it without further hesitation and set out to apparate back to his family's home.

°

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**A/N:** Thank you very much for your kind reviews, they are very encouraging! I'm very happy that you enjoy this little story. 

A special "Thank You" goes, as always, to my wonderful Beta, **sympathex**!

The "dialogue" between Snape and Draco is, of course, a (slightly altered) quote from HBP, chapter "The Unbreakable Vow".

The friendship between Snape and Avery (as well as Avery's first name, Benjamin ("Ben")) is based on the shortfic **"Schneesturm" by sympathex**. Even though the fic is already a bit "older" (it's from 2003) it's still a great characterisation of Avery and Snape, and a very sensitive look on the human beings behind the Death Eater masks, with all their dreams, hopes and fears. The story is about a brief meeting between young Snape and Avery shortly after Snape's defection to "the side of light", and despite its age it's still one of my very favourite pieces of fanfiction. If you can read German, I recommend it, of course! You can find it in my favourites or in the C2 archive for Snape shortfics.


	5. Beer and Portraits

**Chapter 5: Beer and Portraits**

The small bottle stood forgotten on the mantelpiece as Snape paced back and forth in the small living room, deeply immersed in thoughts. He had been here for three days and still didn't have any idea on how to proceed. Wormtail was about to arrive this evening and he neither knew what to do about Potter nor how to get the required information to begin with. He was growing increasingly desperate. The only thing he did was to reinforce the security enchantments around the house. He now would learn of any intruder or "visitor" before he or she even reached his doorstep. A small brass apparatus that vaguely resembled a common Sneakoscope stood in the middle of the table. Dumbledore had given it to him once, and after he had made some slight amendments he had used it by default during the first few months of his spying activities for the headmaster.

Grabbing the bottle from the mantelpiece, he lowered himself on the battered sofa and took a sip. He had always liked Muggle-brewed beer, and as the small grocer's shop was only down the road it was easy to acquire when he disguised himself properly. The Daily Prophet lay on the table, showing the big lettered announcement of Dumbledore's funeral on the front page. Pinching the bridge of his nose Snape closed his eyes and sighed deeply. His wrath towards Dumbledore had somewhat subsided, making place for a sensation of numb emptiness. He felt abandoned, like a jagged rock out in the sea deliberately waiting for the tide to drown him.

He flipped the Daily Prophet open and stared at the second page for a few moments without taking in its written contents. Smirking slightly, he then recognised a big picture of himself that graced half of the page, attached to a "wanted for murder" - notice. He took another sip and put the bottle down to smooth out the slightly creased paper. His image looked up at him with a deep frown on its face, and he briefly wondered why pictures for announcements like this always carried a certain villainous quality. Pictures… _portraits_… He could try to get to Grimmauld Place to talk to Phineas, he mused. The former headmaster was, after all, one of the very few people who still knew the truth, since he had observed literally _everything_ from his frame in Dumbledore's study. Suddenly Snape's eyes grew wide and he let out an audible gasp – the portrait in the headmaster's study! _But of course! Why hadn't he thought of it before?_ He almost slapped himself for being so thick that he had nearly missed the most obvious solution. So the only question now was how to get into Hogwarts, he thought, emitting a sardonic chuckle.

The apparatus on the table suddenly hummed and glowed in a soft green light. Snape's eyes narrowed and his body stiffened. Picking up his wand and listening carefully, he slowly stood up and then noiselessly went over to position himself at the small window beside the door, ready to defend himself. A knock on the door announced the arrival of the visitor, and he peered out through a narrow gap in the drawn curtains. A small, slightly hunched man stood outside on the street, raising a silvery hand that shimmered in the moonlight to draw back the hood of his cloak. Snape sneered and opened the door to let his supposed assistant in.

"Ah, Wormtail," he said in a tone that sounded as if he spoke of something disgustingly slimy. "How good of you to come," he continued as the small man stepped over the threshold. "The chambers upstairs are in dire need of cleaning."

Wormtail glared at him. "The master ordered me to assist you, Snape," he said in his squeaky voice, "and not to play your housemaid."

"Yes, of course," Snape answered, a mocking smile curling his lips. "You may assist me then by getting me another bottle first, and then out of my sight. I need to think."

Wormtail opened his mouth in protest but Snape's superior smirk only widened. "Unless you wish to return to the Dark Lord in confession of being unwilling to carry out his orders," he cut him short.

Wormtail winced and whimpered, then turned on his heel and shuffled in direction of the kitchen. Snape watched him disappear behind the door, his grin now even revealing his teeth. Maybe having Wormtail around was worth something after all, he thought, if only for his amusement from time to time. This small display of his authority had definitely raised his spirits, he mused, a satisfied sneer still lingering on his face.

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Snape had decided to wait for the school term to end before he could attempt to enter Hogwarts. This had meant that he had had to pass a couple of days where he needed to keep Wormtail busy, while he pretended to work on getting the required information for the Dark Lord. Instead, however, he ran over several options to enter the castle, each as impossible to carry out as the next. Apparating was out of the question as there were wards, and he doubted that he would be able to just stroll across the grounds undetected. There was too little time to properly brew some Polyjuice Potion, and his Animagus-form was too …large. He shook his head in silent irritation when he thought about it. For some mysterious reason he had always had problems with transforming into his Animagus-form; he had never quite grasped it, which had always bothered him – especially since this had been the gravest flaw in his disguising methods as a spy. _Even Wormtail managed!_ He grimaced in frustration. His own Animagus was per se acceptable, but he had never managed to fine-tune it, as he had never been able to reduce its size properly. He had always suspected that it all rooted in his deep resentment for the animal he would represent as an Animagus. Grinding his teeth, he still vividly remembered the hurtful teasing from the other children at the playground when he came running with his baggy, second-hand Muggle clothes flapping behind him. So, _flying_ to Hogwarts was out, too, since an overgrown bat would most likely be spotted.

Which left only one, rather risky, option: the tunnel from the Hog's Head, which kept shifting its Hogwarts' end every now and then. It thus was not certain where exactly in the castle he might get out. However, he doubted that the passage would be blocked or guarded, as nobody knew about it except Dumbledore, himself and – of course – Aberforth, who was the problem. Snape believed that he could reason with the portrait but he suspected that Dumbledore had kept his brother in the dark about their plans. And if Aberforth believed him the murderer of his brother he would most likely set his most vicious he-goat against him rather than allow him to enter the tunnel, let alone grant him time for an explanation. He would have to find a way around him, then…

"Where should I put this?"

Snape's head snapped up. Wormtail was standing at the book-filled wall at the other side of the room, looking at him enquiringly with a heavy tome in his hands.

"You are supposed to put them in alphabetical order," Snape snarled. "I believe you are capable of reading, are you not?"

"But this book has no specific author," Wormtail whined.

"So put it according to its title, then!"

Snape watched Wormtail turn back to the bookshelf. He didn't know how much longer he could keep the rat out of his hair; his imagination for inventing activities for him was nearly dried out. Emitting a derisive sound he shook his head and stood. It was enough, he had to get going anyway, there was no more time to lose. Carefully, he drew his wand and hid it behind the folds of his robe.

"Wormtail! Come here!"

Wormtail turned around again and approached him cautiously. Snape smirked.

"Wormtail," he said, slightly flicking his hidden wand and looking into Wormtail's eyes, "I will go out now."

"Where are you…" Wormtail began, but then his gaze became unfocussed and he started to sway slightly.

"This does not concern you," said Snape, concentrating on keeping eye contact.

"It does not concern me," Wormtail repeated, his voice flat and his expression faraway.

"You will stay here and finish the task I ordered you to do," Snape continued. "Then you will go upstairs and sleep until I return."

Wormtail nodded slowly. "Yes… Yes, I will…"

"You will not report any of this back to the Dark Lord," Snape said, his voice slightly sharper than before.

Wormtail mechanically shook his head. "I won't."

"Good…" Snape mumbled, putting away his wand. He watched Wormtail shifting his attention back to the book-filled wall and taking out the next volume with a somewhat awkward move.

Smirking, Snape threw his travelling cloak over his shoulders and, after one last look at the very obvious absent-minded Wormtail, opened the door and stepped out on the moonlit street. Cautiously staying in the shadows of the old buildings, he swept along the dark and empty street until he reached its end. Concentrating on his destination he then quickly turned on the spot to disapparate.

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He reappeared at the far end of Hogsmeade's High Street and, as soon as his body had fully materialised, hurried over to the nearest building and pressed himself into its dark doorway. A quick glance at the stars told him that it had to be around midnight. He looked around warily to make sure the street was empty, then crossed it, soundlessly, to the small alley that led to the Hog's Head.

The shadow of a cat made him freeze and raise his wand in alarm. He quickly withdrew to the back of Dervish & Banges where he hid behind some old wooden crates, peering out on the suspicious feline. The cat miaowed and Snape smirked. It had jet-black fur without any markings, as he realised somewhat relieved. He took a deep breath and then hurried over to slide behind a huge pile of old liquor barrels at the backside of the Hog's Head, just below an open window to the first floor.

After a quick glance at the window he mutely cast a Levitating Charm on himself and concentrated on slowly floating upwards, carefully steadying himself with his fingertips on the wall as he went up. As he reached the window he cautiously stepped on a projection on the wall and looked inside the dark room. An old hag was snoring noisily from a ragged bed beside the window. Very slowly Snape pulled himself up and climbed through the window, carefully not to wake her up. Grunting softly, she stirred in her sleep, causing Snape to hold his breath in tension. With a jerky motion she pulled up the dirty sheet covering her and turned around to face the wall, now breathing steadily in her sleep.

After a few anxious moments Snape slowly exhaled, his eyes wide open in alert and his heart pounding. He soundlessly tiptoed over to the door and pressed his ear against the rough wooden surface. It all seemed quiet. Biting his lower lip Snape cautiously opened the door a crack and glanced outside into the dark staircase. He smelled goats and heard occasional clatter from the bar downstairs. He swept out of the room and quietly closed the door. Silently, he cast a Repelling Charm on the staircase, hoping that it would keep Aberforth downstairs for a while, then sneaked over to the door behind which he remembered the entrance of the tunnel.

The sitting room behind it was dark as well. Snape put another Repelling Charm on the second door behind which another staircase led directly up from the bar, then muttered a_Lumos_. Soft light from his wand filled the room and fell upon a painting above the mantelpiece. In her frame, a frail looking girl appeared to be sleeping. He approached cautiously, not to startle her out of her deep slumber.

Snape knew that he needed her to keep calm when he wanted to gain her trust – something he knew he was not particularly good at when it came to young girls. Frowning, he remembered the tantrum she threw when he first attempted to enter the passage many years ago, after returning from a Death Eater meeting shortly before the Dark Lord's disappearance. Aberforth, who despite his brother's continuous reassurances had never trusted him entirely, had needed several minutes to calm her down and eventually let him enter the tunnel. Dumbledore had never told him their deceased sister's full story, even though Snape had heard some of the rumours that were circling in the wizarding community. He only hoped that she didn't know of the events on top of the Astronomy Tower.

"Ariana…" he whispered, trying to put on a gentle face.

She stirred and woke up – and instantly drew back into the background of the portrait, frightenedly peering out with wide-open eyes.

"Don't be afraid, Ariana," Snape said softly, holding his wand so that its light fell onto his face. "Look… You know me. Do you remember me?"

Ariana tilted her head, surveying his features warily. Despite his apprehension, Snape forced an even friendlier smile onto his face. "I have been here before," he said, "and your brother asked you to let me pass through the passage to Hogwarts." This was the crucial moment, he thought, his heart pounding. Him mentioning her brother could trigger an unfortunate reaction on her part if she knew. The reaction, however, did not come.

"Do you remember?" Snape prompted, inwardly begging for her to comply – and to do so quickly, as he was not sure how long his Charms could hold Aberforth off.

Her anxiety seemed to slightly ease up, and Snape moved closer to the portrait. Apparently Aberforth had indeed not spoken to her about his brother's death, as he sensed after a closer look on her innocent and now somewhat curious face. He had always suspected that these two very different brothers did not get along well, especially given the rumours about their family issues. The realisation that Aberforth would not even mention his brother's death in private, however, took him aback. Well, it was only to his advantage, Snape thought, slightly calming down.

"Will you let me pass?" he asked softly.

Ariana still seemed to deliberate on his request, but after some moments the painting slowly swung open, revealing a dark tunnel behind.

"Thank you," Snape breathed in relief, as he climbed up onto the mantelpiece and entered the old passageway.

After he heard the portrait softly snap back into place he flicked his wand and the old brass lamps ignited, filling the tunnel with a dim light. A genuine smirk passed over his face as he started to carefully move over the earthy floor. So the first obstacle was overcome, he thought, as the beginning of the tunnel behind him slowly vanished into darkness. _It was most fortunate that the strange girl did not talk._

_°_

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**A/N:** Many thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta **sympathex** :-) 

Concerning the Animagus: I did some research but couldn't find out how exactly an Animagus-form is determined. So I assume that an Animagus cannot be chosen deliberately but rather defines itself from the respective wizard's personality. Please forgive me if I'm mistaken.

**Your comments make me happy :-)**


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